guitarra del fuego
by the red feather
Summary: Every night he plays for her. Every night she listens. AU, jonouchi/mai.


I wrote this on a complete whim. (Well, what oneshot don't I write on whim, ne?) But I really did. At like 12:30 last night, with a very nasty chest cold and listening to Johannes Linstead music, I started writing this, and couldn't stop. So I'm finishing it now, all the while worrying about science class…Heh. (Finals are in TWO WEEKS! They crept right up on me and caught me unawares! NOOO!) But it'll all get done. Eventually. But anyway, the pairing is JoeyMai. Gotta love Polarshipping. And I understand everyone probably seem a little OOC. I know that. So don't flame me for it. Thanks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. If I did, single duels wouldn't take FOUR FREAKING EPISODES. In fact, if I owned YGO, there would be a lot less dueling and a lot more romance/plot…all duels would take place in the Shadow Realm. Heh.

* * *

Music came from the open window of the apartment upstairs, floating down towards her window. Standing on her fire escape, the woman listened to the sound of the guitar, playing its beautiful melody. The music was different every night. Sometimes it was happy, the kind of sound that puts a spring in your step, makes you want to get up and shake your hips to the beat. Sometimes it was sad, more depressing than any words could ever be, a lonely string of music. And sometimes-like tonight-it was just plain beautiful.

Most of the time it was just him, playing his guitar, but sometimes he was joined by his friends from the college. The little spiky-haired kid who looked about ten years younger than he was would bring that saxophone, and the brown-haired boy would bring his trumpet. The little girl with the red hair that hung around often anyways would play her flute, and the boy with the white hair and big brown eyes would break out his violin. Oftentimes the girl from the Performing Arts department, the dance prodigy that seemed to hang with them an awful lot, would come and try her hand at the tambourine or drums-really, whatever instrument happened to be lying about-and they'd just play all night. Sure, it kept everyone in the building awake 'til they stopped, but there wasn't anyone who lived there that could honestly say they didn't enjoy the music.

But usually it was just him. She didn't know why he played every night-maybe it was just for practice?-but he did, without fail. She'd grown accustomed to the sound of that guitar, lulling her to sleep as she lad in bed or keeping her awake as she finished up work. The boy himself she was acquainted with, of course. They actually knew each other quite well, for two people that went to the same college, yet were only in one class together and, thought they lived in the same apartment building, saw each other relatively little.

Many, many times, it had occurred to her to her that she wanted to know why he played, but probably would never. Yes, they were neighbors and classmates, maybe even friends in a strange sort of way. It wasn't her business, but she was curious, there was no doubt about it. And every night she contemplated marching right upstairs and asking. Yes, people enjoyed the music, everybody knew that, but there had to be something beyond that. You couldn't want to play every single night just to make other people happy-right?

Well, it made Mai happy that he played every night. In fact, she sang along. Ever since he had started playing, she'd been singing. There were no words to the songs he played-they were all beautiful melody-but she came up with her own, or just sang the notes that came to mind. They weren't words, just music, true, pure music. And she didn't know it, but people had started to listen to her, too.

Something was different about tonight. The music that always drifted downwards from the upstairs window hadn't come yet. He'd usually pick up his guitar at nine o'clock on the dot-a very punctual man, that Wheeler-and stop at ten. It was nine oh-five, and there was nothing yet. She was beginning to worry. Variation was not meant to be a part of this. The music every night was a routine, sacred almost, not to be forgotten or missed, ever.

She walked out onto her fire escape and stuck her head out over the railing, trying to see into the dark window above. Where was he? Where was the music? What the heck was going-

"WAH!" A blond head popped into her view. There, hanging by his legs from the fire escape above, was Joey Wheeler, her guitar-playing neighbor, a huge, goofy grin on his face.

"Hey Mai. What's up?" he said, that maddening grin still plastered on his face.

"Joseph Wheeler, what are you doing?" she asked, flabbergasted. The boy never ceased to amaze her.

"What's it look like I'm doin'? I'm looking at you." He grinned even wider.

"No, I mean what are you doing hanging upside-down from your fire escape? You could fall!"

"I do it all the time. Helps ya think." He remarked.

"Think about what?"

"Stuff."

"Like?"

"Life."

"What kind of things in life?"

"Just things."

"Ugh. You're such a man."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your one-liner answers, that's what I mean."

"…I don't understand women at all."

"And I don't understand men, Joseph. So we're even."

He swung back up onto his own fire escape, then leaned back over-just his head this time-so he was looking down at Mai. By looking up, she could see him and talk to him. He still had that grin on his face. Ugh.

"So why aren't you playing?" Mai asked, surprising herself. Joey didn't seem surprised at all, just a little confused.

"My guitar, you mean? Why?" he cocked his head.

"Well, you play every night, and I've…gotten used to hearing it."

"I've gotten used to hearing you sing, too."

Mai blushed. "You listen?" she muttered.

"Of course. You ain't got a half-bad voice, Mai."

She made a halfhearted attempt to slap him.

"Hey, it was a compliment!"

"I'm sure."

"Really, it was." He gave her a smile.

"Joey?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you play that guitar every night?"

"…dunno. For fun, I guess."

"Oh. Um, well, good night then…"

"Yeah. 'Night, Mai."

He watched her walked back inside, a dreamy, faraway look on his face. When he was sure she could no longer hear him, he looked up at the stars and sighed.

"You wanna know why I play all the time, Mai?"

"…I'm playing for you…I doubt you'll ever know or care…but I'm playing for you."

The he got up, looked up at the stars one more time, and walked inside-leaving one very dumbstruck blonde standing in her apartment.

_I'm playing for you…_

After standing in what can only be described as shock for a few minutes, Mai smiled.

_You don't think I'll ever know or care, Joey Wheeler? I'll show you "caring"…_

She opened her door and marched upstairs.

_Time to face the music._

Every night he plays for her. Every night she listens.

* * *

Blame it on the music. Really. The title of this fic, "Guitarra del Fuego", is actually the name of the Johannes Linstead song I was listening to while writing it, but it kind of fits. It's Spanish, and loosely (I use "loosely" to mean "using Morgaine's pitifully small knowledge of Spanish," kay?) translates to "Fire Guitar" or "Flaming Guitar" I think. I love both JoeyMai (in my opinion, the most canon pairing of all of them) and music, and that's where this spawned from. That and I'm sick and have nothing else to do. Meh. R&R please, though!


End file.
